


Let Me Clip Your Dirty Wings

by ghostiic



Category: The Walking Dead (TV)
Genre: Daryl has a soft spot, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Light Angst, Past Child Abuse, kind of
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-11-08
Updated: 2015-11-08
Packaged: 2018-04-30 16:44:49
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,594
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5171735
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ghostiic/pseuds/ghostiic
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Daryl talks to Sophia after her father dies at the quarry.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Let Me Clip Your Dirty Wings

It's hotter than Hell outside, the hottest day Daryl can remember since the world went to shit, and their camp smells like death. It's no surprise; after last night's attack, the harsh Georgia sun is baking twenty-some bodies at varying states of decay into the soil. Everyone is on edge. Rick and Shane are bickering about the CDC versus Fort Benning, Andrea is sobbing over her sister's dead form, and Jim is hacking up his lungs in the RV. The others are either helping move the bodies or inserting their opinion about what someone else is doing.  
  
As far as Daryl's concerned, it's all pretty cut and dry. The safe place, if there is one, is the place with guns. Their policy is zero tolerance for walkers, so Jim and Amy'll have to go, as harsh as it sounds. Hell, between the two of them, he figures Jim drew the short straw. It's only a matter of time before the others realize what has to be done, but Amy won't care. She's already dead. They oughta just take the shot now, Andrea's feelings be damned.  
  
He's surrounded by a buncha pussies, though, so that isn't likely to happen.  
  
To release some of his agitation, he stomps around the camp, smashing his pickax through the brain of every walker-to-be. Blood and bits of skin stain his shirt and it might be insane, but he kind of enjoys the task. At least it gives him something to do besides twiddle his thumbs and wait for Merle's dumb, one-handed ass to saunter back into camp.  
  
"I'll do it. He's my husband."  
  
When the widow asks for the pickax, he figures it ain't his place to say no. Might as well let the bitch take care of herself for once. So, instead of arguing like he's done all day, he just hands the weapon over and watches as the frail woman struggles to lift it over her head and bring it down over her husband's skull. He watches with sick fascination as she gains strength, counts the _thud, squish, thud, squish_ as she does it four more times. By the end, she's sobbing so hard she can barely hold herself up. He gently takes the pickax out of her hand and leads her to the steps of the RV before returning to his job.  
  
When he's put down every single one, including the ones that were already walkers, he grabs his crossbow and pack and heads down to the quarry. He might as well clean up a bit if the others are gonna be squirreling around for awhile still. When he gets down to the water, though, there's already someone there. It's the widow's little girl, sitting down there all alone, pushing some rocks around with a stick. She has tears on her cheeks, but hastily wipes them away when she sees Daryl looking.  
  
"Shouldn't be down here," he says.  
  
The girl just stares at him. Daryl's pretty sure he's never spoken to her directly. If she's been listening to the others, she's probably afraid of him. He presses on anyway.  
  
"You should get back up to camp."  
  
Still, she doesn't say anything. She just looks up at him with wide, sad eyes and suddenly Daryl feels a stab of guilt. _She just lost her dad, asshole,_ he tells himself, _say somethin' nice to her._ Unfortunately, Daryl doesn't have a very large vault of nice things to pull from, so he just sits down beside her. She doesn't flinch or move away, just stares at him expectantly. He sighs. He's no good at this shit.  
  
"When I was 'bout your age, my mama died. She was real nice to me and I missed her a lot," he says, studying the girl's face. "Right after her funeral, I was cryin', scared. My brother was let outta juvie for one day to see her gone, but he had to go back after, so I was jus' alone with my pa. That night, he took me to the bar in town, bought me a burger an' fries, let me pick songs on the jukebox. After, we went fishin' and he didn't make me clean my own. He did every single one, jus' let me catch 'em. Even let me have a beer 'fore we headed home. Tha's one of the only nice memories I have of him."  
  
He's quiet for a long time.  
  
"My pa was like yours," he adds finally.  
  
She doesn't say anything, just blinks, but he knows she understands what he means. It's the first time he's ever told anyone, but there's no weight lifted off his chest or any sappy shit like that. If anything, his heart feels heavier, knowing he shares this particular brand of pain with the innocent little thing sitting next to him.  
  
"Don' make it easier to lose 'im, I know that, but you gotta make sure ya keep your head on straight. Your mama needs you now more'n ever."  
  
The girl nods, eyes wide like a doe. For a while they're silent, staring out at the calm water. From this distance, Daryl can just barely hear the sound of activity picking back up at the camp.  
  
"C'mon," he says, standing and extending a hand. "Best go check on your mama 'fore she wonders where you got to."  
  
The girl allows him to help her up. Where his hands are rough and calloused from years of hauling around the crossbow, hers are tiny and soft, fragile. He feels a sudden rush of hatred toward that son of a bitch for daring to lay his hands on anything so pure and innocent, fighting not to let it show in his face. Christ, all he needs is for the girl to think he's mad at _her_ , but she either doesn't notice his sudden anger or understands because she gives his hand a small squeeze before letting it go. It surprises him when she speaks for the first time.  
  
"Are you gonna come with us, when we leave here?"  
  
"Gotta find my brother," he replies after a short pause. He chews his thumbnail as they start the trek back up toward the RV. Truth be told, he's been thinking about this a lot. "He might come back here."  
  
"He might not. You'd be safer with us," she says. He sees her glance at him out of the corner of her eye. "He's not very good. I know you miss him like you miss your dad, but he's mean to you. I saw him hurt you. He's not very good."  
  
"My brother, he ain't like your pa or mine. He's rough, but he don' mean no harm, "Daryl insists. "He's my kin, I gotta find 'im."  
  
The little girl stops dead in her tracks, catching Daryl off guard.  
  
"I heard my mom tell my neighbor that about my dad once," she says.  
  
She doesn't need to go on. Daryl gets the point, even if she's wrong. Hell, get the girl talking and she don't know when it's time to shut up. He doesn't say that, though. He just turns and keeps walking. She follows him as far as the RV, where she goes in to her mother and he keeps going to see what Shane is telling the rest of the group about the CDC. To Hell with that little girl, running her mouth like that when he was just tryna help. She might know about a bad pa, but she didn't know shit about having a brother. One glance at the people who are agreeing to go with Shane and Rick solidifies his choice. He can't go anywhere with these people. To Hell with all of 'em.  
  
It's not until the next day, when the Mexican family decides to go their own way and he catches the little girl's tear filled eye that he changes his mind. He's already packed up all of his stuff in the back of Merle's truck, figuring he'll just go back to the city and retrace his steps, see if he can't track his down his brother. One look in those wide, green eyes is enough to weaken his resolve. Could be Merle's already dead. If he was alive, Daryl figures he would've made it back here by now.  
  
Unless he was mad enough not to come back at all.  
  
"You comin' with us?" Rick asks him as the others start piling into their vehicles. "I know we didn't get off to a real good start, but we'd be glad to have you along."  
  
Daryl's surprised that Rick bothered to ask and just stares at him. The girl is off to the side, obviously trying to hear his answer.  
  
"Yeah, I guess I'll stick with you guys."  
  
He gives the girl a quick nod as she clambers into a car with people like her and he climbs into Merle's truck by himself. The stupid thing sputters to life after three tries and he follows the caravan down to the fork in the road. There, one car turns right and the others go left. Daryl follows them toward Atlanta. He doubts there's anything at the CDC, but if Merle's gone, there's nothing out there for him anywhere else either. Might as well stick with a group. It's smarter, safer, like the little girl said.  
  
As the truck turns he sees her looking at him through the back window of her car. He's never seen her do it before, but just then she gives him a tiny, secret smile. One that he returns.

**Author's Note:**

> I'm not terribly pleased with the ending, so I might change it eventually, but this is an idea I had this morning. It occurred to me that Daryl told Carl about his mom after Lori died, so maybe he had a similar conversation with Sophia about Ed. I kind of wanted this to explain why he decided to follow the group to the CDC and why he later felt so strongly about finding Sophia when she went missing. 
> 
> This is my first attempt at writing fanfiction and I typed it all up in about thirty minutes, so I'm sorry about any typos or weird errors. Let me know what you think! :)


End file.
